


honey, i'll be seeing you wherever i go

by ohprongs



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, F/F, Human AU, Human!Simon, Secret Identity, clizzy au, human!clary, super!alec, super!izzy, super!jace, superhero au, the author has never met an em dash she didn't like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohprongs/pseuds/ohprongs
Summary: or, the 'so we didn’t really have the money or time to find someone we knew to room with so we went on craigslist and i think you might be a superhero or something but holy shit this is good chicken parmesan??? and we end up liking a show nobody else in our respective friends knows about and we marathon at four in the morning' au





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theloverneverleaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theloverneverleaves/gifts).



> happy birthday to my girl [ali](http://isabellebiwoods.tumblr.com)!! heard you like secret identity aus mayhaps?? i tried my best, i hope you like it & happy bday xo
> 
> ALSO im literally walking on air bc [Mistymay6886](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistymay6886/pseuds/Mistymay6886) made fanart for this fic which can be found [here](http://aceofhearts85.deviantart.com/art/Isabelleclary-688302460)!!
> 
> title from _green light_ by lorde

****The thing about Izzy, Clary very quickly comes to learn, is that she keeps odd hours. Like, not just regular med school student on a caffeine high odd, but… _odd_.

The whole thing starts when Maureen gets accepted into her favourite school last minute, and so the arrangement for Maureen, Clary and Simon to live together has to be postponed. In a moment of desperation, Simon turns to Clary and suggests they try Craigslist. Izzy is the first applicant they see, and she seems normal enough, even if she is rather evasive about her previous living arrangements.

She tells them the — very — vague story, sat on the couch beside her brother, Jace, sipping a cup of tea. 

"There was a problem with the plumbing," Izzy says, talking about her first apartment, and then, about the second, "the electrics were dodgy”. The place she'd had with her brothers prior to moving in with Clary and Simon apparently had a super who was creepy as fuck. 

"Woah, you guys have had a string of bad luck," Simon comments, and the siblings share a glance. 

“We obviously pissed off some bad people,” Jace says with a grin, and Izzy kicks him. 

Simon gestures between Izzy and Jace. “So, where's your other brother now?"

"He moved in with his boyfriend a while ago," Izzy explains, "and Magnus only has one room — which Jace is having — that he's willing to give up. Which is fair enough, since he's the one who owns the place.”

Simon nods thoughtfully. "So, it's just you who'd be moving in, Izzy?" he asks, casting Jace an oddly furtive look. 

"If that's okay?” Izzy asks, and Clary and Simon turn to each other and nod.

Sometimes when Clary’s absent-mindedly sketching in the deep blue of twilight, curled up on the couch because she can’t sleep, Izzy will come tiredly through the front door of their apartment in an oversized coat, hair pulled back in a braid, a flash of silver wrapped around her wrist — that intricate bracelet she likes to wear sometimes, the one she said was a gift from her Mom. 

Other times, it’s the middle of the day, and Clary’s just popped back to the apartment for lunch when she bumps into Izzy, who’s panting as she slips through the double doors of the elevator up to their floor. Clary thinks she spots a ripple of purple-blue on Izzy’s neck, four splotches like finger marks, as well as a smattering of red dust.

Once, Simon and Clary had been propping each other up as they stumbled into their apartment as dawn broke, their alcohol-drenched world still slightly spinning, and Izzy had been on her way out. She’d lifted an eyebrow, got them both tall glasses of water and then carried on her way. If Clary had been in a more reliable frame of mind she’d have said Izzy was wearing a black mask over the top half of her face, but she chalked it up to seven shots of tequila (never again, though possibly acceptable in moderation) and left it at that.

Another time, when Clary came through to the kitchen to get a glass of milk before bed, Izzy had been perched at the counter happily video calling her brother, and it wasn’t until Clary switched the light on that she saw the blood.

“Jesus fuck!”

“Hang on, Alec,” Izzy had said, then lifted her head and waved at Clary, bloody gauze in hand. “It’s okay, I just cut myself on a scalpel during labs,” she said. 

Clary heard a snort from the phone and Izzy sent it a glare.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” she’d told Clary.

“Message me if you need anything,” Clary said uncertainly. “Anything at all.”

So, truth be told, Isabelle Lightwood is not the most conventional flatmate Clary has ever had. But one thing is for sure: whatever hours Izzy keeps, she looks _super_ cute in her glasses.

∞

“Hey,” Clary greets, looking up from the TV. Izzy flashes her a smile before she’s sagging against the door, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Clary switches the TV to mute. “You okay? It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Izzy says, dragging herself away from the door. There’s a smear of something that looks suspiciously like dried blood on her cheek and a little makeup smudged under her eyes.

Clary tilts her head. “Why don’t you go and get changed into your PJs, and I’ll make you some coffee?” she offers.

Izzy smiles gratefully and nods. She takes her muddy combat boots off and leaves them by the front door.

“Thanks,” she says as she crosses the lounge towards her bedroom. “Actually, have we got any herbal tea?”

Clary nods. “I think Simon has some in his cupboard,” she says. “With a drop of honey?”

“Sounds perfect,” Izzy says, disappearing into her room.

When she reappears Clary is back on the couch with two steaming mugs of tea in front of her. Izzy’s hair is no longer braided, instead piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Her glasses are back on, face clean of blood and makeup, and she’s wearing her purple dinosaur onesie.

She’s adorable.

Izzy takes a seat next to Clary, gripping one of the mugs in both hands and drinking blissfully.

“Mm,” she says, and then she laughs as her glasses steam up. “This is good, thank you.”

Clary smiles. “No problem,” she says, drinking some of her own tea. “Where’ve you been? It’s late. I don’t think I’d be out on my own at this time if I could help it.”

Izzy just shrugs. “I was in the lab and lost track of time,” she says. “Are you worried about The Circle?” she asks, not unkindly.

About a year ago, the first attacks had happened — people found dead with no apparent cause, the only evidence new particles in the bodies that weren’t from this dimension and blood red dust hanging in the air in clouds around them. Since then, the attacks had grown more frequent, and more violent. 

Recently, for the first time, the things responsible — so-called demons — had been caught on camera. Shape-shifting, ethereal; they moved more like a swarm of bees than any wild animal, though the torn bodies of their victims said different.

Most chillingly, there were murmurings about the people who were controlling the demons, using them to do their bidding: a group called The Circle usually claimed any demon attacks as their own.

“I guess,” Clary says, “but we’ve always got the supers to save our asses, right? Viper, Fallen Angel, and the rest of them.”

Izzy blinks and then turns away, seemingly hiding a smile. “Well, they sure try. Anyway, what are you doing up?” Izzy asks.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Clary says. “I thought watching Netflix might help, but then I found this TV show and got kind of hooked.”

Izzy pulls her feet up on the couch and tucks her head against Clary’s shoulder. “Ooh, what’s it about?” she asks, sipping her tea.

Clary tries to remember how to breathe properly with Izzy so close to her and opens her mouth twice before being able to respond.

“Uh, well, it’s this comedy drama called Secret Lives. They get you really invested in these two straight couples in the first few episodes and then it turns out that they’re actually in same gender relationships but none of them are out, so they’re covering for each other.” 

Izzy laughs. “Sounds like a good show,” she says, and Clary’s not really sure what to make of that. Is it a typical straight person response? Or does Izzy find it relatable? 

The thing is, Clary and Simon came out to each other years ago, and they’re not particularly subtle around Izzy, but Clary doesn’t know for sure about — well, if Izzy likes girls, too. She really hopes she does, ‘cause her crush on Izzy would kind of be a bummer if she didn’t. But still.

“Yeah,” is all Clary says, turning the sound back on.

And — it’s not like Izzy isn’t affectionate. In fact, she touches Clary quite a lot, playing with her hair and cuddling up with her on the couch. Once they’d had the whole gang round — Clary’s parents, Izzy’s brothers and her brother’s boyfriend — and run out of chairs, so Izzy had sat on Clary’s lap for most of the night. 

So Clary’s been getting certain vibes from Izzy for a while, but she’s still not sure. Straight girls make things very confusing.

Clary takes a deep breath, then exhales. “I think that would be nice,” she says quietly.

“A relationship?” Izzy asks, turning her head up slightly to look at Clary.

“Yeah,” Clary agrees half-heartedly, shrugging, “a girlfriend.”

Izzy blinks at her once before she smiles, settling her head back on Clary’s chest. “Same,” she says, and warmth washes over Clary.

∞

The thing happens on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday afternoon. In some ways, Clary’s not surprised when it happens to her. She lives in New York, after all.

The demons swarm the city, a thick, blood red fog blanketing all the open spaces. The building Clary works in goes on emergency lockdown and they’re encouraged to make their way to one of the secure briefing rooms. Clary follows the crowd, but about halfway she realises she’s left her phone at her desk. 

She heads back towards her office and has just stepped inside the door when it slams shut behind her and locks automatically. Clary tries the handle, shaking on it as hard as she can, but it won’t budge. 

“Fuck,” she sighs.

Clary heads over to her desk, picks up her phone and tries to call Luke, but she has no signal. She throws herself on her desk chair and exhales, deciding it’s probably not an issue. If she can’t get out, that also means the demons — or The Circle — can’t get in, so she should be fine. She can wait it out.

Clary crosses to the window, staring out over the city. Clouds of red run along every road and intersection, and the mist has nearly reached her building. 

She’s so focussed on watching out the window that it takes her a while to register the strange hissing noise in the room with her. She turns slowly, skin erupting with goosebumps, and flattens herself up against the glass of the window with a gasp when she sees it. The red mist is coming into the room through their air vents and she has no way out.

Clary tries Luke again, then 911, jabbing at the screen of her phone with shaky fingers. Still with no signal, she’s about to throw her phone in frustration when someone —

Someone knocks on the glass.

There's a girl — a woman — outside, dressed head to toe in a skin tight black jumpsuit that leads down into black combat boots. A bright red cape that matches the colour of her lipstick is fluttering in the air behind her. Her hair is braided, coming across one shoulder and a mask covers the upper half of her face.

Viper. She’s come to save Clary.

The woman raps on the glass again and makes a pushing gesture with her hand that Clary understands to mean _move out the way_. But it's not like she can go anywhere. 

The woman rolls her eyes and makes the gesture again, this time with more urgency. 

Clary stares at her for a moment then moves away from the window, crouching under a desk.

And then — well, and then the woman flies away. So much for helping. 

Clary's just about to crawl from under the desk when a dark movement catches her eye and she turns, instinctively covering her head as the glass of window pane shatters. 

Glancing back when the glass has stopped falling, Clary sees the woman step inside gracefully and hold out her hand. 

"Come on," she says. 

Clary stares at her. "What?"

"I've got you, let's go," she says. 

"Go _where?"_ Clary asks, looking down outside to the city below. 

The woman smiles. "I can fly, remember," she says. 

"Yeah, but I can't," Clary says, eyeing her.

The woman rolls her eyes again and takes a step closer. She holds her arms aloft. 

"I'm not asking you to," she says. "I've _got_ you."

Clary blinks, then the meaning clicks into place. The woman is offering to carry her from the building. 

Clary's not necessarily the swooning type, but damn. 

"Okay," she agrees, and the woman's eyes light up. She slides one arm around Clary's back and one under her knees, and then walks them from the building. 

They're in free fall for less than a moment but Clary's tummy still swoops with it, and then they're steadily airborne. 

From this close, Clary can see every detail of the woman's face: warm brown eyes, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and a beauty mark just above her top lip, one that Clary would know anywhere. 

But —?

No. That must be a fairly common place for a little mole, right?

“Wait, what are you doing?” Clary shouts. They’re descending — straight into the fog.

“It’s okay,” the woman replies. “Just trust me.”

They reach the ground with Clary's head a muddle of thoughts.

"Are you okay?" the woman asks, gently setting her down. 

"I think so," Clary answers. "Are you?"

The woman nods. 

"Hey," Clary says, gently touching the woman's arm, "thank you. You saved my life."

The woman smiles and reaches out to tuck Clary's hair behind her ear. "We all need someone to save us sometimes," she says, and even with the commotion around them, it's a voice Clary knows as well as her own. 

“Who are you?" Clary asks suddenly, voice stuttering at the end. 

But the woman only winks at her and starts backing away.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teases, and her attention is on Clary so she doesn't see the demon rushing through the air behind her and Clary's shout of warning comes too late —

The woman turns, quick as a flash, and a whip uncoils from her wrist, snapping the demon around the neck and lashing it forwards. She disposes it with a dagger she's pulled from — 

Is that a thigh strap? Clary should not be this turned on. 

The woman glances back to Clary, brushing red dust off her hands.

"Well, all in a day's work," she grins. "It was nice to meet you."

Clary can't help but smile back, watching Isabelle Lightwood walk away from her into the fog. 

∞

“Fuck, Clary,” Simon says for the fourth time, bundling her in a hug, again. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“I don’t get it, though,” Clary says. “If the fog was safe, why did she save me from the room?”

“I don’t know,” Simon says. “But I’m glad she did. Did you speak to your Mom?”

“Yeah,” Clary says, “I called her on the way back. I went to the station to see Luke first, but he was out. Obviously. All the police in the state are trying to deal with these things, and the people controlling them.”

Simon just hugs her tighter, and that’s how Izzy finds them when she comes through the door. 

Clary watches Izzy for any sign of recognition, but all she gets is a blank look.

“What?” Izzy asks.

 _“What?”_ Simon repeats. “Have you seen the red sky over the city?”

“Oh, that, yeah,” Izzy says, shrugging.

Simon turns to Clary incredulously, but Clary just eyes Izzy with a scrutinising gaze. 

“You know about it, Iz?” she asks. 

Izzy’s eyes dart to the side and she tugs her hairband out, shaking her hair loose from its braid. “The red mist isn’t actually dangerous,” she says. She comes over to the couch and sits down next to them. “Well, it gives you a headache if you breathe it in for too long, but it’s just how the demons transport themselves. They’re only corporeal when they find a host — usually they travel by air. Makes them a pain in the ass to kill.” She pauses for a beat. “I’d imagine.”

“So, are we stuck with this red stuff now?” asks Simon, turning to squint out the window.

Izzy shakes her head. “Should dissipate after a while,” she says, “now that all the demons are gone. Not that that will stop The Circle. They won’t give up yet.” At Simon and Clary’s inquisitive gazes, she adds, “I saw it on the news.”

Clary bites her cheek to hide a smile.

“Well, I need a shower,” Izzy says, glancing down at herself, and then Clary has to bite her cheek for a _whole_ different reason.

∞

Things both change and stay the same after that. 

Clary becomes fascinated with Izzy's glasses — more to the point, she becomes fascinated with the fact that the smartest woman she’s ever known, who's on track for a double first in medicine, seems to believe that they’re enough to disguise her identity. Especially from those who are close to her. Clary reckons Alec would have a fit if he knew about Izzy’s extra-curriculars.

Izzy’s there, on the news. They play footage of what they’re calling The Red Invasion, and, always, the various news channels give their varying opinions on the supers who’ve been saving them for the past year. Viper, the girl slashing mid-air with her dagger and destroying the demons with her whip. But then Clary catches the report on the tall guy, arms taut as he shoots a load of flaming arrows into the sky at a hoard of demons, and then a close up shows a guy with a speck of brown in his blue eyes —

 _Right_. Izzy’s brothers do the extra-curriculars with her.

Rather than feeling betrayed or lied to about the whole situation, Clary's actually kind of amused. 

Plus it's hard to be mad at someone who saved her life in such a bad-ass way. Izzy punched her way through a window for Clary, and as romantic gestures go, that one comes in a close second — to first place of being carried through the air by her crush. 

Fuck. She's got it bad. 

And it doesn't help the situation, exactly, that the Internet has gone wild for the recent clip of Izzy saving Clary. Her Twitter blew up with new followers — how they found out it was her, she'll never know — and her Tumblr dash was flooded with both love and laments ( _can you believe viper and her mystery girl invented true love/find someone who looks at you like viper looks at that girl she saved/#vipersavedthegays/what does a girl have to do around her to get rescued by viper......asking for,,, a friend_ ) for a good two weeks after it happened.

So even though Clary knows now that her flatmate is a superhero in secret, Izzy clearly doesn’t know she knows. She still cooks for Simon and Clary once a week, making her special chicken parmesan, leaving it in the oven so they can have it whenever they get back from work. She still comes in all hours and throws out excuses like, ‘I working late’ or, ‘my study group ran over’. 

And then one morning Clary stumbles, bleary-eyed, from her bedroom, to find Jace sleeping on the couch and Alec and Izzy passed out in the armchair beside him together in a way that _cannot_ be comfortable.

She tries to be as quiet as possible as she makes her breakfast, glancing back at them every now and then. All three of them have smears of red dust and mud across their skin. The blanket across Jace’s chest rises and falls as he breathes, but it doesn’t hide the bandage peeping out from underneath it. There’s a bottle of antiseptic on the coffee table, too.

A phone ringing breaks the silence and Izzy jerks awake, accidentally elbowing Alec in the chest. He groans and pushes her off him, stumbling towards the mobile. 

“Hey, I’m fine, I’m sorry. Jace got hurt and Izzy’s place was closest,” is what falls out of Alec’s mouth. He turns in Clary’s direction, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand and continues, “I know, I lost sight of you after the ceiling collapsed but Cat texted to tell me you were okay and that you destroyed the control r —”

Alec stops abruptly, staring at Clary in surprise. Izzy blinks at her with wide eyes, then shares a glance with her brother. Jace sleeps on.

“Uh…” Alec mumbles, “babe, I’ll call you back. I love you.” He swallows and his eyes dart to the side. “I’m gonna…” he leaves the room quickly, but not before checking on Jace on his way out.

“I can explain,” Izzy says, holding her hands up in a placating gesture.

Clary nods at Jace. “Is he alright?”

Izzy’s eyebrows furrow together. “He’s the strongest person I know,” she says. “He’ll be fine.” Then she shakes herself and eyes the bottle of antiseptic. “He, uh, fell off his motorbike.”

Clary’s a little offended Izzy expects her to believe that.

“Right,” she says, dragging the word out. “Coffee?”

Izzy stares at her. “You’re not freaked out. Why aren’t you freaked out?”

Clary rolls her eyes. “I know, Iz.” She makes a vague hand gesture. “About the…I know you’re Viper.”

Izzy’s eyes go wide and she swallows. A few beats of silence pass and then she licks her lips. “You didn’t say anything,” she says.

“You hadn’t told me. I figured you didn’t want me to know,” Clary says with a shrug. She rattles the instant coffee jar. “Coffee?” she asks again.

Izzy pulls a face. “No, thanks. When’s Simon’s coffee machine arriving?”

“Such a coffee snob,” Clary sniffs, but there’s amusement in her words.

Izzy’s quiet for a while but Clary can hear her moving around, presumably checking on Jace.

“Guess that medicine degree comes in handy, huh?” asks Clary.

Izzy hums. “You’re really okay with it?” she asks.

Clary turns to her and smiles softly. “Izzy, I think it’s freaking awesome,” she says honestly. “And you saved my life, so I can’t complain.”

Izzy smiles at her, and it starts slow and turns into a grin. 

“Alec?” she calls. “You can come out now.”

A moment later Alec reappears, looking cleaner than before and freshly-shaven. “Already did, sis,” he quips, and then, to Clary, adds, “hope you don’t mind, I used some of your stuff.”

Simon chooses that moment to make his appearance, all sleep-ruffled brown hair and panda slippers.

“My band name,” he explains, at Alec’s _what the fuck_ look, then, ”holy crap, is Jace okay?”

Simon rushes to the couch and drops down beside it, hands hovering over Jace’s body.

“Yeah. He’s always been the dramatic one,” Alec says, rolling his eyes.

Izzy shoots Alec a look. “He’s fine. He — he got stabbed, but he’s okay.”

Simon’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “He was _stabbed?”_

“Lightly stabbed,” Izzy deadpans, and Clary snorts into her coffee.

Simon just purses his lips and strokes Jace’s hair back from his face, then seems to remember there are other people in the room — besides Clary, who already knows about his crush — and straightens up, clearing his throat. 

Alec seems rather unimpressed. He turns to his sister. “Let me know when he wakes up, yeah?”

Izzy nods, then crosses the room to hug him. “Love you,” she says.

“Love you, too,” Alec tells her, and then he leaves with a nod at Clary and Simon. 

Simon looks at Jace, then Izzy, then Clary. “Okay,” he says, “someone needs to tell me what’s going on. But first: coffee.”

∞

It doesn’t take Jace long to recover, all things considered. The copious amounts of soup and kisses Simon provides might have something to do with it, and, as a result, the two of them spend almost all of their time at Alec’s boyfriend’s place. And that, of course, means Clary and Izzy have the apartment to themselves, for the most part.

Izzy snorts a laugh and Clary looks up from the stove, where she’s finishing their pasta. 

“Alec says he’s investigating how to legally change Jace’s name to ‘Cockblock’,” Izzy says, reading from her phone. Clary laughs too and serves up the food. 

It isn’t meant to be a date, exactly, but the two of them are alone, with romantic music playing from Clary’s iPod, and there are candles around from somewhere. The way that Izzy takes Clary’s hand halfway through eating doesn’t help matters, although Clary’s definitely not complaining. 

How Izzy looks so graceful twizzling pasta around her fork, Clary will never know.

They end up entwined on the couch, binge watching _Secret Lives_ for the third time. At some point, snuggling up together turns into spooning and then Izzy’s shifting in Clary’s arms, turning so she can face her.

“You know that thing you said about wanting a girlfriend,” Izzy whispers, and Clary giggles. “Do you still…”

“Yeah,” Clary breathes, and she’s not sure who leans in first but then they’re kissing, soft and gentle. Izzy’s fingers wind through her hair and Clary wriggles a bit until Izzy fits comfortably on top of her.

Their kisses and sighs break the silence until Izzy’s phone beeps. 

“Ignore it,” she mumbles, trailing her lips down Clary’s neck and effectively quieting any of Clary’s protests until the phone rings again for the third time.

Clary laughs and pushes Izzy away gently. “Go,” she says. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Izzy rolls her eyes but slips off Clary. “I just want a night in with my girlfriend,” she laments to the world as she crosses to her room to get changed.

When she returns, Clary braids her hair for her while Izzy laces up her boots. 

“You got this,” Clary says, giving Izzy a kiss. “Be safe.”

Izzy hugs her tightly. “Don’t wait up,” she says.

Clary squeezes her back. Reluctantly, they have to part, and then Izzy’s out the door, silver whip bracelet glinting on her wrist in the hall light.

Clary sighs. She supposes she’ll have to get used to this, but — well. It’s a small price to pay when your girlfriend saves the world.

**Author's Note:**

> me?? on [tumblr](http://lightwoodlesbians.tumblr.com)?? it's more likely than you think!!


End file.
